So it happened. I was overtaken. Twice. By the same person.
Grey skies hung over a grey London as the hunched forty something, ligament hewn, neon violet clad woman put me to shame. I had seen her wending her way up from the canal across the bridge into the park – a route I normally take, but I have recently been avoiding the madness of Camden Locks market in favour of a shorter cut around the inner circle.
Must be more zen when running, I told myself, after briefly speeding up to match her pace before she peeled off to the right at the fountain, again, my normal route. Pressing ahead to the boating lake to take in the rusty leaves and curiously odd Canada geese offspring – photo below – I set the slight disturbance aside.
Yesterday’s improved run up Primrose Hill, compared to normal standards, had improved my confidence, it was a shame to have it knocked back so easily. Besides, I often overtook other runners, and took a strange and somewhat worrying pleasure in doing so. But karma’s a b**ch. So, not 10 minutes later purple runner was back, having clearly taken a route much longer than mine.
Time to do some speed work, then.
Leaving aside the edge that other runners can put on Sunday jog, autumn’s breezed its way through the park. Even stray footballs from the Sunday Leagues and children on scooters can’t get in the way of views like this: